Really
by varietyofwords
Summary: A break away from "Move On Cartwrights" that gets Cappie and Casey where they need to be. CaseyCappie.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Really

**Chapter:** One

**Fandom:** _Greek_

**Words:** 3,231

**Rating:** PG-13

**Author's Note: **Break up scene is from "Move On Cartwrights." This isn't going to be a one shot but definitely not as long as _Say_. Just couldn't shake off this plot bunny.

"I'm done, Evan."

"Done with what?" He asks as he adjusts his collar.

"I'm finished being angry with you. I woke up this morning and I finally realized no matter what I say or do, I can't change the past. Or how you feel about it. And I'm done trying."

Evan's smile falters.

"Finally ready to move on."

"Move on?" Evan says with a shake of his head. "From us?"

"Yeah," Casey replies.

"And what if I was less of a jealous idiot?" Evan asks.

"Um, then I think we could be friends. If you think you can do that."

"Friends?"

"Think about it," she says before giving him a peek on the cheek. "See you around campus,

Evan Chambers."

--

It hadn't taken long for the well oiled gossip mill of Cyprus-Rhodes University to start up again. Within two hours, the entirety of the CRU Greek system knew that Casey had shown up on the Omega Chi doorstep and told Evan that she's done.

In that many words.

"_I'm done, Evan."_

And because he knows Casey, because he knows that she wouldn't want to listen to him gloat about how she finally came to her senses, because he knows she won't jump in bed with him _just_ yet he stayed away.

For two days.

Which, _really_, with his track record, is quite the accomplishment. Especially consider how he used to follow her around hoping for a look, hoping for a glance, hoping for anything from her.

And in those two days, he broke up with Rebecca, which wasn't fair to her but, _really_, he's thrown girls on the floor before for her.

And when is anything in life fair?

Because life wasn't fair when he showed up at the all Greek ball and she was there slow dancing with Evan. Life wasn't fair when she broke up with him two weeks later. Life wasn't fair when he spotted her heading into the Omega Chi house with Evan a week after that. Life wasn't fair when she found out Evan "rush humped" Rebecca. Life wasn't fair when she crawled out of his bed, slipped on her clothes, and told him their little _reunion _was just "a fond trip down memory lane." Life wasn't fair when he tried to be honest about the whole "fate" thing, because she _hates_ liars, and it backfired in his face. Life wasn't fair when he watched her be lavaliered on the front lawn of ZBZ by Evan.

Life isn't fair _whenever_ it comes to him and her.

So today he digs back into his memory, the creepy stalker part of his memory, and figures out where she is on Monday morning at ten-thirty. And remembering that English class he signed up for at registration last summer, the one he shares with her, the one that cause the whole midterm fate debacle, he grabs a notebook, rustles up a pen, and heads to class for the first time in three months.

It isn't hard for him to spot her. Her hair is down, in that simple fashion that he loves. The one where she brushes her hair dry as she curls up in bed and watches a TiVo'd episode of Boston Legal, the show he introduced her to. The one they used to watch curled up in bed together, her wet stringy hair leaving a wet spot on his t-shirt.

With Evan lying in the other bed, trying to study for some class for his political science major, and them laughing at Alan Shore make fun of the American political system. Evan had always said it was dumb, that Alan Shore was a communist who should be taken down in the same manner that Joseph McCarthy had taken down communists during the 50s.

Cappie had always been quick to point out that McCarthy had caused the Red Scare, that he had instilled fear in the American public that they too could be accused of being a Soviet spy, that he had taken away a right to a fair trail.

Casey had always told them both to shut up.

And Cappie wonders if she had ever watched it with Evan but quickly shoves the thought out of his head as he slips into the seat next to her. She's talking adamantly with a brunette in front of her and doesn't even know he's sitting next her until the professor calls the class to attention and she realizes someone's arm is resting on the arm rest to her right. She glances at him through her peripheral vision and then turns completely to look at him.

"What are you doing?" She hisses at him.

"Going to class," he replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world, which, really, it kind of is.

"Whatever," she mumbles back and cracks open her notebook, pink, of course. But what surprises him is that on the back of the cover the words 'Mrs. Casey Cappie' are firmly etched into it. Reaching across his own chest and the collapsible desk, he lifts of the pages to get a better look at the writing. She slaps his hand away.

"Is there a problem?" Professor Moncrief asks.

"No," Cappie tells her and the professor turns back to the chalkboard.

"Can't let go, can you?" He says throwing in that smug grin of his.

"Me?" She hisses back with an accusatory tone.

"Mrs. Casey Cappie, huh? Has a nice ring to it. But it'll be Mrs. Casey _Cappington_," he whispers to her.

"It'll be?"

"Yep," he whispers into her ear.

"Alright," Professor Moncrief says to Casey and Cappie. "That's it. You two out."

"Me?" Casey asks in surprise.

"Out!" Professor yells with her finger pointing towards the door and Cappie is not surprised that Moncrief would do this. He might have bribed the T.A. but Moncrief had found out about the plan soon after. She had wanted to know why he suddenly decided to grace her class with his presence and he found himself confessing everything to her.

And he does mean _everything_.

So he dutifully follows Casey out of the classroom and inwardly smiles at Moncrief's resourcefulness. At least, he hopes it was resourcefulness.

"You!" Casey accuses as the door shuts behind him, her finger jabbing into his chest.

"Yes, Mrs. Cappington?"

"Don't call me that," she snaps. "I have never, ever been kicked out of class and…"

"Really?" He interrupts. "Because I'd say it's about second best to not going in the first place."

"I need this class to graduate, Cappie. I can't have the professor hate me."

"Relax, Case."

"This isn't…You didn't bribe her with two six packs, did you?" Casey asks, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"No," he draws out. "When have I ever done that?" She doesn't respond, just glares at him in that what-have-you-been-smoking kind of way.

"Okay…" he drawls out and she rolls her eyes before turning away from him and heads towards the exit.

"Casey," he calls after her and she turns back to look at him.

"What?" She asks with annoyance written all across her face. He opens his mouth and shuts again, unsure of what to say. Because, really, he hadn't expected her to turn around. He'd expected her to keep on walking.

"These boots are made for walking," he offers to the tune of the 1960s song and, surprisingly, she glances down at her feet.

"I'm not wearing boots, Cappie."

"Nancy Sinatra," he offers but she looks at him like he's an alien from Mars. "Well, I'll have to email you the song."

"Okay," she says and he can barely make out what she says except for the fact that his gaze is fixated on her. Okay? Well it's a step in the right direction and he's grabbing on it like it's a lifeboat and he's a passenger on the Titanic. What was it Mrs. Henderson always said?

_Carpe Diem_.

Seize the day.

"Do…do you want…"

"Do you wanna…"

The both trail off and Cappie grins at her. He's got a pretty good idea of what she was going to say.

"You first," he tells her and she shakes her head.

"No, you."

"Do you wanna get a Cappie-cino?" He asks hoping that he isn't wrong. That she isn't going to stalk off. That she isn't going to walk right up to him and smack him in the face.

She bits her lip, in that way to makes him want her even more, in the way she _knows_ turns him on, and nods her head, in that innocent way that _also_ knows turns him on.

"Okay," he replies and then realizes how absurd they must look yelling…_talking_ to one another as they stand at opposite ends of the hall from one another. And he suddenly gets it in his mind that he has to rectify the situation, so he walks…_canters_ towards her until he's right in front of her, looking down at her.

"Okay," he says again before leaning forward so he's inches from her face. "Is there pie that goes along with this Cappie-cino?"

"Don't push it," she says. But she's smiling and as long as she keeps smiling, he's okay with her not wanting pie.

_For now_.

--

Really, he's okay with her instance that they go _off campus_ for coffee. She's trying to get her sorority back on top and he's…he's just trying to make her happy. Trying to spend as much time with her as he can before he wakes up from this dream.

"Pinch me," he mumbles as he waits by the coffee bar for his coffee and her Cappie-cino. This isn't the coffee cart in the middle of the quad that he usually picks his morning coffee up from. Nor is it Starbucks, where the Omega Chis have an "official" table.

This one is off the beaten path, a mom and pop shop that has big coffee cups, kind of like those seen on _Friends_. The Central Perk, right?

It doesn't matter. Casey's here.

And she and him?

They're kind of like Ross and Rachel.

Broken up for the moment but in the end, they'll get back together because, _really_, everyone knows they belong together.

"Cap…" the teenager behind the counter says. Gladys had introduced the teen as her granddaughter, Hannah, who's going to be starting school at CRU next fall. Something about graduating from high school early. Something about wanting to make sure CRU is just right for her. Either way, he had mumbled a quick "CRU is a great school" and stepped out of line.

"Cap…" Hannah starts again and Cappie takes a step forward.

"It's Cappie," he tells Hannah with a smile and Hannah smiles back at him.

"Isn't your girlfriend the president of Zeta Beta Zeta?" Hannah asks him as he grabs the two mugs.

"Uh, yeah," Cappie replies. He likes the sound of _your_ girlfriend. He could get used to this.

_Again_.

"I'm planning on pledging, well, trying to pledge ZBZ next year. They're like the best sorority on campus."

Cappie smiles. Not because he necessarily likes Hannah. (She's a bit young, don't you think?) But because he knows how much it would mean to Casey that girls are still planning of pledging ZBZ. That girls still think the Zeta Betas are the best on campus.

He scans the crowd for her. The coffee house has an eccentric mix of young and old. Students, non-Greek students, are huddled around tables holding study groups. Moms are holding casual conversations about their children's bowl movements as their children play on the floor with cars and Barbie dolls. An older couple is leafing through brochures about retirement villages. And then there's Casey, whose sitting by the big window staring off into space as she twirls a lock of her blonde hair.

Something he hasn't seen her do in a long time. At least, since freshman year. Maybe even long before the whole all-Greek ball fiasco.

"Hey," she says as he sets the mugs down on the table and takes a seat. His chair doesn't match her chair. The table doesn't match the other empty one next to them. And he decides this is the equivalent of his favorite bar.

The one that's off campus. The one that doesn't hold any memories of Evan putting his soul sucking lips on Casey. The one that reminds him of laughter, attempts to teach her how to play pool, and _fun_.

Because everything can be fun. And everything _should_ be fun.

Except this place doesn't serve alcohol.

"So how did you find this place?" He asks before taking a sip of his coffee. Casual conversation. Good place to start, right?

"I'm not really sure. But it doesn't have any Greeks, so…"

"It's your equivalent of my bar," he fills in and she nods her head as she takes a sip of her Cappie-cino. "So you broke up with Evan, huh?"

"Did you ask me here to gloat?" She eyeing him supiciously in that whole I-know-your-guilty kind of way.

"First of all, no. And secondly, this is your place. I just followed."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it."

"But you're broken up, right? Because I don't want to try something and then have to go to blows over your honor."

And she smiles. At most, he had been expecting a fleeting smirk. But here's a genuine smile. One that could light all of New England in the event of a blackout. One that melts his heart.

"And what about you and Rebecca Logan?"

"Broken up," he mumbles with the mention of Rebecca's name. "So…why do you need Modern Comparative English to graduate? I thought you were majoring in physiology."

She had spent most of freshman year agonizing over whether or not to go with English or physiology. Many mornings were spent lying against his chest with him feeding her pie for breakfast and her struggling to decide between the two subjects.

In the end, she had chosen physiology and he had spent three weeks mumbling 'Dr. Cartwright' against the crook of her neck, the line of her jaw.

"English is my minor," she replies and he kicks himself for not realizing that earlier. Hadn't she once told him she wanted to write a novel? Set the world on fire?

"That's my major," he exclaims with excitement. Too much excitement in his book.

"For now," she reminds.

"Touché, Miss Cartwright," he says with a nod of his head. "Next I'm thinking photography."

"And what do you plan to do with photography?" She asks with a genuine smile and genuine interest.

"Take photos of you," he finds himself saying before he can stop himself. _Word vomit_. That repulsive action that occurs when he's around her. Where he can't stop himself from saying what's on his mind. What's rolling around in his brain and on his tongue.

She blushes, which is a neutral sign. Because, _really_, as long as that hot coffee stays in her cup rather than splashed on his face, or dumped into his lap, things are looking up for him.

"I prefer to keep my clothes on, thank you."

And he's kind of shocked that she would think he would take _those_ type of pictures. (And even if he did, he _definitely_ would _not_ show them to anyone. They'd be his and his alone.)

But he's also shocked that she's joking with him. At least, he _really_ hopes that's a joke.

"Never a virtue, in my opinion," he replies and the comment brings him back to the moment he first met her. He had offered to let her do a shot off of him and instead she asked for the guy with "the boring cup." The guy who had turned out to be Evan. But Casey had grabbed his hand, leaving Evan standing with two cups of beer, and she had danced with him all night. About an inch apart.

(Really, it was about five inches but to Little Cappie, it was close enough.)

And she laughs.

Until her cell phone starts to ring and she digs it out of her purse.

"I have to…" she starts and he dips his head with understanding. "Hello?"

And he sits there uncomfortable as she chats with some ZBZ about ZBZ business and she keeps darting glances at him.

Sort of like she's afraid of being caught. Afraid Macy or Lacy or Stacy will lean out the phone and see that she's getting coffee with him.

A Kappa Tau.

"Okay, Lacy. We can discuss this at the next meeting. Alright. Bye," she says and snaps the phone shut. "Sorry. Clothing bandit strikes again."

"Oh," he says like he understands. But, really, he doesn't because the only phone calls he gets about "official" Greek business are updates of when the keg is supposed to arrive, or that the house or a member has been placed on probation, or that the TriPis are having a wet t-shirt contest. Nobody ever calls about a "clothing bandit" and to tell you the truth, most of the time one of the guys is wearing his shirt and vise versa.

The only thing they all manage to keep separated is their underwear. Because, really, who wants to know that their boys are sitting…resting where someone else's had?

She's glancing at the time on her cell phone and he racks his brain for something witty to say in order to make her stay. But, as whenever he's not suffering from a dire case of word vomit, he can't think of anything to say.

He used to be comfortable around her._ Really_ comfortable. But ever since Evan became the "better guy" and his life became consumed with the idea of winning her back, he thinks before he speaks.

Mrs. Dobson from Child Protective Services would be so proud.

"I have to go," she tells him quietly.

"Sick of me already?"

"No," she quickly replies. Last semester she would have said…screamed 'Yes!' so he's a little taken aback that she's so quick to say no. "My next class starts at noon and I need to get some lunch and grab a book that's back at the ZBZ house."

"Could I come?" He asks pushing his luck.

He _hates_ how needy he sounds. Like he's a puppy who can't bare to let his master out his sight for a minute.

She's biting her lip and he's staring at her a bit too intently.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she drawls out and he can't help but let his face fall. He might as well have just screamed 'I need you!' at her. "But…"

Really? There's a but.

"…But how about pool tomorrow night? Say eight o'clock?"

In the back of his mind, he knows that there's something going on at the Kappa Tau house tomorrow night but he can't place his finger on it. And, _really_, Casey's asking him out and he's not about to pick the house over her.

_Again_.

"Why, Miss Cartwright, are you asking me out on a date? Don't you think you're rushing this a bit?"

There's that word vomit again.

And Casey kind of looks like she's going to take the invitation back, so he jumps all over it.

"I'll be there. Eight o'clock."

"Okay," she says smiling and gathers her stuff. "Okay."

He sure as hell isn't going to be late for this engagement.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Really

**Title:** Really

**Chapter:** Two

**Fandom:** _Greek_

**Words: **2,690

**Rating:** PG-13

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in this news chapter. I kind of hit a rut with Say and needed to work it out.

This isn't a date.

That's for damn sure. Because, _really_, who brings their friend on a date? Especially when there isn't another guy coming along for her friend to be set up with.

Cappie likes Ashleigh, don't get him wrong. She's been on his side since day one.

Well, maybe not day one because on day one they hadn't met yet. But at least by day six she stood on his side of the line. At the time, he couldn't tell you _who_ stood on the other side.

She had even gone as far as to find him after Casey dumped his sorry ass and tell him that, in the end, she believes that Casey will come back to him. That there _really_ is a thing such as true love.

But he was under the distinct impression that this is a date. You know, the kind where it's just a boy and a girl.

Not a boy, a girl, and her _friend_ serving as the awkward third wheel on a bicycle built for two.

"Daisy Bell." 1892. Harry Darce.

(He used to be a music major.)

If he had known Ashleigh was coming along, he would have grabbed Wade or Beaver or some random dude walking down the street to serve as her date.

Okay, maybe not Beaver. That would have ended the "date" right then and there.

But he certainly would not have spent forty-seven minutes deciding what to wear like some sixteen-year-old girl getting ready for her first date with the high school quarterback. Or drum major. Or equally geeky and awkward sixteen-year-old boy.

And right now, Cappie feels like a fool. He had grabbed _their _pool table in the back corner of the bar, ordered a pitcher of beer, and told the bartender, Alex, that he was _finally_ getting_ his_ girl back.

"Um, Ash will you get us a couple of sodas," Casey directs towards her friend as she drops her purse on the tall, wooden table by the pool table. "Diet coke, please."

"I'll help," Cappie says, setting his glass of amber colored beer on the table by Casey's purse. "Why don't you rack them up, Case?"

With a glace over his shoulder to make sure Casey's not paying attention to them, he grabs Ashleigh's elbow and drags her around the corner towards the bar.

"What are you doing here?" He hisses.

"Nice to see you too, Cappie," Ashleigh replies and he brushes her comment off because he's serious.

_Serious as a heart attack_.

"Well," he prompts as he follows Ashleigh over to the bar.

"Two diet cokes, please," she tells Alex, her hand making the universal symbol for two. For peace.

"Coming right up," Alex replies with a smirk on his face that Cappie _really_ want to rub right off. "Getting crushed by the third wheel, huh, Cappie?"

"Fuck off, Alex," Cappie growls as he takes a seat next to Ashleigh on the torn bar stool. "Ashleigh…"

"Can't tell you," she says holding her hand up like a police officer telling a driver to stop. "Sister to sister confidentiality agreement."

_Really_?

Is she _really_ going to throw that in his face? Didn't he once use that against her?

Girlfriend to boyfriend confidentiality agreement?

And he tries to giver her that look. The one that Dr. McWhat'sHisName uses on that dark and twisty girl on that chick show Casey used to make him watch with her. The show he still watches, some times, when he's desperately trying to hold onto a piece of her.

_Frey's Anatomy_?

But, apparently, he's not Dr. McWhat'sHisName because Ashleigh's laughing at him.

And her laughter kind of grates on him. The same way that Rebecca and Kristy and Lana and any other girl at CRU's laughter grates on him.

It's not the right sound.

It's too long, too short.

It's too low, too high.

It's not _Casey's_.

"Okay, okay," she tells him. "Casey's afraid that she'll do something stupid…like get drunk and wake up at the KT house without any clothes on."

And, _really_, Cappie doesn't see anything wrong with that idea.

Well, as long as she's naked in _his_ bed and not just naked _anywhere_ in the Kappa Tau house.

"She's afraid you're up to something," Ashleigh says placing her hand on his shoulder and giving him the most serious look he knows Ashleigh can muster. "_Are_ you up to something?"

"Besides trying to get her back?"

_Really_?

More word vomit?

Damn word vomit.

"Listen, as long as you stick to that goal, I have no problem with you. But Casey _just_ got over Evan. She needs some time before she goes diving back into bed with you like we both know she will," she tells him as she lets go of his shoulder and grabs the two sodas off the counter.

Standing up, she looks around and then leans in again.

"And don't worry. Calvin is going to call me and demand I come right over."

Has Cappie mentioned how much he loves Ashleigh?

Really, _really_ loves Ashleigh?

He grabs one of the sodas out of her hand and gestures for her to lead the way.

--

"Are you ready to lose?" Cappie asks Casey as he hands her the glass in his hand.

"Have you forgotten I took a class over the summer?" She asks him as she leans against the table.

"Well, in that case, Ashleigh's on my team."

"No way," she exclaims and Cappie's glad to see her smiling. She doesn't smile enough these days. "She's my friend. I brought her."

"But you took a class over the summer," he mimics as he grabs a queue out of the holder on the wall and picks up his abandoned beer glass that he placed on the table when Casey, and Ashleigh, arrived.

"Nope," Ashleigh interjects holding up her latest issue of _Vogue_. "I've brought my own entertainment."

"Ash," Casey says a bit too quickly but she cuts herself off by biting her lip. He's a little put off by her insistence that her friend play with them because, after all, this is _their_ date. And how is he supposed to get her to…

What _does_ he want from her?

Drop her jeans and go at it with him right here, right now?

No.

_Not really_.

If he's honest with himself, _really_ honest with himself, he knows he wants her to fall in love with him again. Give him that infectious smile that makes him feel like the _only_ guy in the whole wide world. Make him feel like he's not the only person in this "relationship" who's feeling those feelings.

What he wants, what he_ really_ want is to wake up next to her, their legs tangled, his arm thrown over her protectively, her body molded into his.

That's what he wants.

Now.

Tomorrow.

Two weeks from now.

Ten _years_ from now.

"_I know where I want be in ten years. Do you?"_

"_I wanna be with you."_

Honesty is supposed to be the best policy but, _really_, it hasn't work for him in the past. He was honest about the bribery. Honest about where he wants to be in ten years.

And it had all back fired.

_Crack. Crack. Crack._

It still kind of surprises him that Casey is able to sink three with the break. Freshman year, when he had been teaching her, he had been hit _where it counts_ with the queue quite a few times because she pulled the queue back a bit too far.

_Really_ too far.

So the fact that she's able to do anything with a queue besides try to decapitate Little Cappie surprises him.

_Really _surprises him.

"Nice shot," he says as she sinks another ball in the corner pocket and she smiles at him.

"If I gambled, I would totally be the favorite to win," she tells him as she takes a swig of her soda.

--

Okay, so he's lost two games. It's not that big of a deal.

_Really_, it's not.

He's not Evan. He can lose gracefully.

To a girl.

A girl who he'd like nothing more than to take home and…

Ashleigh's phone is ringing and he watches her flip it open and talk adamantly with the person on the other end. He darts a glance at Casey as Ashleigh snaps the phone shut.

"That was Calvin. I have to go."

He watches Casey's jaw drop and she fumble for the words she needs to make Ashleigh stay, so she's not alone with him. He eyes widen as Ashleigh throws her magazine and cell phone into her purse.

"Bye guys," she says as she heads for the exit of the small room. Leaning in, she whispers into Casey's ear, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Have fun," she calls as she backs out and heads for the door.

Alone at last.

_Finally_.

"So what do you say we really get this party started?" He asks her as he leans on his queue.

"What do you have in mind?" She asks cautiously like he's going to suggest they play strip poker or something like that.

Okay, so he though about it but, _really_, this is a public place and this really is too early to be showing the package off before Christmas. September is early but March is way, way too early.

"How about a little wager?"

"I told you I wasn't a gambler. Last time…" she trails off because she knows he knows what happened.

"_This was just a fond trip down memory lane."_

"I know," he says with a nod and he leans across the table, his two hands resting on the worn, green felt. "I was thinking more of a keep-your-clothes-on kinda deal."

"Okay," she drawls out. "What do you have in mind?"

"If you win, you get a hundred bucks. If I win, I get what I want."

"This sounds oddly familiar," she says. "What is it you want?"

"Another date. This time _alone_."

She's contemplating his proposal. He can see it in her eyes and she's doing that thing with her lip again.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asks. He can't say he isn't surprised that she takes him up on his offer. After all, she's the one that brought Ashleigh on their "date."

"Okay," she repeats.

--

The odds are against him.

Seven percent chance.

_Really_, he has no chance of getting another date with her. At least, not with this proposal, this proposition.

She only has to sink on more ball and he's done. He won't be getting that second date, so he sighs and leans on his queue wishing he had thought of a better way to ask her out again.

He's finished.

_Really_ finished.

And she…she scratches?

And he just won?

"Did you do that on purpose?" He asks and he suddenly shivers with that déjà vu feeling.

"No," she says shaking her head yes.

There's that déjà vu feeling again.

And all of the sudden, her lips are on his lips and he finds his hand sliding across her back as she deepens the kiss.

This _really_ is déjà vu.

Except this time, this time there's no alcohol.

On her part.

Or broken hears.

On her part.

Or revenge.

On…

The sudden thought that this just might be another case of using Cappie and then dumping him at first light freaks him out.

_Really_ freaks him out.

One hand is tangled in her hair, the other hand trails down her back, pausing at the flare of her hips. Her pink shirt has risen, exposing the white skin of her hip bone and without warning, his fingers push down into her sensitive flesh and shove her away, her lips ripping away from his.

"Wh…what?" She sputters, gasping for air.

He doesn't response, just stand there, chest heaving, his tongue sliding across his lips giving him a taste of her lip gloss all over again.

"Cappie, I…"

"I won't…I won't do it again, Case," he says dropping his gaze from her face to his feet. "I ca…I can't."

"Cap, please," she says, her voice breaking as her tears begin to well up in her eyes.

And all of the sudden, he feels really, _really_ bad.

Because maybe she wasn't using him. Maybe this was supposed to happen.

_Fate_, maybe?

She had, after all, broken up with Evan and now he's just a fool who made her cry.

A_ really_ big fool.

"Case," Cappie mutters as he takes a step closer and grabs her arm. She tries to back away, tires to fight him. Yet, Cappie's stronger and he pulls her against his body, tucking her head under her chin.

"Shh, Case," he tells her as his hand caresses the small of her back. "I'm sorry."

And now she pushes him away.

"What the hell was that?" She asks him, her chest heaving up and down.

Up and down.

Which is a _really_ big distraction.

"I'm an idiot," he mumbles.

"Yeah," she fires back. "You kinda are."

"Did I just blow it?" He asks and she drops her head, biting her lip. And he can tell she's thinking about it.

_Really_ thinking about it.

"I don't know, Cap."

"Oh," he mumbles and the two of the stand in silence, his gaze fixated on her, hers on the floor.

"Can we play another round?" He asks and she immediately shakes her head no.

Not the response her was hoping for.

"Can I walk you home?" He asks hoping that God himself will interfere. She doesn't immediately shake her head, so maybe God has stepped in, and she's doing that thing with her lip, so he let's his hopes rise.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asks. He can't say he isn't surprised that she takes him up on his offer. After all, he's the one that pushed her away.

Like the _really_ big idiot he is.

"Okay," she repeats.

--

Two houses to go and they'll be at Zeta Beta Zeta and he's kicking himself for wasting his time.

Sure, they've talked.

About Rusty, how nice Ashleigh is, how the ticket lottery is coming up.

And about how the Kappa Taus and the ZBZs should party again because the Prohibition party was so much fun.

"I was thinking dinner and a movie," Casey tells him, as they past the Lambda Sig house, who, despite it being eleven forty-five at night, are playing a game of touch football on the lawn.

"Huh?" He asks because he is _really_ confused by her statement.

"Or we could just…I don't know," she trails off as he stops to look at her.

"Are you talking about the wager? The date?"

"Uh huh," she says nodding her head. "You won fair and square."

Except he didn't.

Not _really_.

She scratched on _purpose_. He knows it. She knows it. Hell, Alex the bartender probably knows it.

"Okay," he says as they continue walking. It's Tuesday night. Asking her out for tomorrow night would be too fifteen-year-old-desperate-teenage-girl, right?

"Dinner and a movie…Thursday?"

She nods her head, smiling and he can't help the giddy feeling that's yearning to bust out.

"What time?"

"Seven," he offers and she nods while tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Our of his peripheral vision, he realizes that they are standing on the front porch of the ZBZ house. And he's not exactly sure _what_ he's supposed to do now but, at least, she's not running into the house and slamming the door in his face. His hands are hanging awkwardly by his side, hers doing the same. And that's when he realizes that the she doesn't know how to handle this either.

"Good night, Cappie," she says as she opens the door and slips inside.

"Night, Case," he replies.

So he has a date and he smiles with the thought as he back tracks his steps towards the KT house.

On the other side of the ZBZ front door, she's leaning back against it, her eyes closed, and this grin on her face that Frannie and Suzanne and Ashleigh haven't seen since the beginning of Casey's freshman year, one that Rebecca has never seen.


End file.
